“Why, yes,” said Jimmy, “I fancy you’ve hit the mark!”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so dreadfully mysterious,” she answered.  “Now, why can’t you tell me what it is all about?”

He could not see his way to gratify her.  Bridget had insisted that the engagement had remained a secret at Colonel Faversham’s wish, and Jimmy had no wish to make things unpleasant for him at home.  He had told Sybil, it was true, but probably he would not even have enlightened his sister if he had taken time for reflection.

“Do you think,” asked Jimmy, instead of replying to Carrissima’s question, “that Bridget would be likely to go abroad again?”

“Jimmy,” she answered seriously, “wherever she may have gone, you will be wise to take my advice.”

“What is that?”

“To make no attempt to follow her!”

Jimmy laughed at this, and reminded Carrissima of his wish to speak to Colonel Faversham.  Somewhat reluctantly she accompanied him down-stairs again, and opened the door of the smoking-room, taking the precaution to make as much noise as possible with the handle.

Colonel Faversham looked the embodiment of dejection, when at last, followed by Jimmy, she entered his room.  He was sitting in an easy-chair, leaning forward with his hands to his head.  All his usual exuberance appeared to have left him; he looked quite old and feeble.  Seeing Jimmy, he scowled fiercely, making no attempt to rise or to offer his hand.

“Good-morning, colonel,” said the visitor cheerfully.  “Sorry if I am disturbing you, but I wanted a few words, if you can spare a minute.”

“A broad hint for me to go,” cried Carrissima, backing towards the door, with the most painful curiosity.

“Well, what is it?” demanded Colonel Faversham, as soon as he was alone with Jimmy.

“I am going to ask you a straight question!” was the answer.  “I have heard of your engagement——­”

“Who the devil told you?” exclaimed Colonel Faversham, sitting suddenly erect.

“Well, you know,” said Jimmy, “I imagine there was only one person who had it in her power to tell me.”

“Bridget, you mean?”

“Yes,” replied Jimmy.

“When was that?”

“Just after you left her yesterday morning.”

Rising from his chair, Colonel Faversham seemed to pull himself together.  He blew out his cheeks, put back his shoulders and fixed his eyeglass as if he wished to examine Jimmy more distinctly.

“I should like to know,” he said, “what my engagement has to do with you!”

“Nothing in the world,” returned Jimmy, “if it still exists.  That is all I am anxious to hear—­whether it does or not.”

Colonel Faversham stood glaring into Jimmy’s face.  So it was true, as he had suspected, that he had been thrown over for the benefit of this confounded fellow, who had the audacity to catechize him!  Well, the battle was to the young!  Colonel Faversham set it down to that.  He must be growing old, hang it all! and here was Jimmy Clynesworth, whom he had nursed as a small boy, civil enough, as far as that went, but probably laughing in his sleeve, as those who win may.